A Twist of Fate
by AriannaMalfoy
Summary: It had been two years since the Dauntless and all her crew were lost at sea, never to be heard of again.  At least, no one thought to hear of them...AU, takes place at time of COTBP.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: It had been two years since the _Dauntless_ and all of her crew were lost at sea, never to be heard of again. At least, no one ever thought to hear of them again...

Disclaimer: This is most definitely not my sandbox, although I do play in it occasionally. Nor do I own any of my playmates, although I can wish.

* * *

Had he been a suspicious man, Gillette might have said that he had drawn the ship to them. Who knew, perhaps he had, but the fact was that the timing of the day's events was downright uncanny when he looked back on it.

He had been staring absently over the taffrail, his body present on the ship but his mind elsewhere. He was not generally given to such idleness; today, however, he had begun to truly look at the _Interceptor_ and found himself comparing it with the _Dauntless_.

It was not, he supposed, truly a valid comparison. The _Dauntless_, for one, had been a first-rate ship of the line; the _Interceptor_ was built on a different model altogether, one more suited for pursuit and sharp maneuvers. She was smaller, faster; Gillette suddenly found himself grinning as he pictured the look on James's face if he ever got a look at this ship.

James. The grin melted off his face as he realized what he had just thought. The man had been gone for two years and still Andrew half-expected him to be just below decks or waiting back at Port Royal with complaints about the amount of paperwork that had come across his desk while Andrew was away. First the _Dauntless_, now James – what was the matter with him today?

"Sir, there is a ship coming up two points abaft the starboard beam." The words startled Gillette out of his reverie.

"What nationality?" he asked.

"She is flying Dutch colors, sir, but…"

"But what, Leftenant?"

"I have never seen such a ship come out of a Dutch shipyard, sir; she's too big to be a merchantman and her rigging…"

Gillette's eyes narrowed as he considered what Mathers was saying.

"Pirates?" he asked speculatively.

"It is only a guess, sir…"

"But it is still a possibility," Gillette agreed. "Mr. Mathers, give the order to come about. Mr. Groves, rouse the Captain - inform him that we are preparing for a possible engagement."

The ship had no sooner begun to turn than the other ship picked up speed; there was a flutter of black cloth near her mainmast and Gillette turned back to Groves. "Make that a definite engagement, Groves," he said. "All hands beat to quarters!" he ordered. As the drums beat out the order, Gillette turned to watch the pirate ship, a frown creasing his brow.

The ensuing fight was prolonged and ugly. The pirate ship was, from what Gillette could tell, a ship of the line; she boasted more guns and more crew than the smaller Navy vessel. The pirates, however, were not overly bright, and for that Gillette was thankful; they could easily have found themselves overwhelmed had the pirates not rushed in too soon, opening themselves up for the retaliation of the faster ship. An hour later the fight was over; the pirates had been subdued and Second Leftenant Theodore Groves was ready to take command of the prize vessel when he noticed them.

All of the pirates he had seen thus far had been unfamiliar; their faces might have belonged to any sailor, their weather-beaten, often scarred visages nothing unusual. The men being led below-decks now, though…. Groves stared, startled, as he realized that he recognized the pirates as Marines, men who had served aboard….

"Dear God," he murmured, looking around him with more attention to detail than he had previously paid. His suspicions were soon confirmed and he hurried away, searching the deck for the First Leftenant. The two ships could not part yet; Gillette had to know.

Andrew Gillette was nearly in the longboat when Groves caught up with him.

"Sir! Sir!" He turned at the sound of his friend's voice, frowning in confusion. The ship was in good repair, the prize crew was more than well-equipped to handle her, large though she was; what could Groves possibly want?

"Sir, a moment please," Groves asked somewhat breathlessly.

"Yes?" Gillette asked.

"Sir, I may be imagining it but – does this ship seem – familiar – to you?" Groves asked in a hushed tone. Gillette raised one eyebrow.

"She appears to be a standard ship of the line, no doubt stolen; what of it?" Groves took a deep breath before answering.

"Sir, I almost hope I'm wrong, but I believe we are standing on the _Dauntless_." Gillette went pale. He turned, surveying the ship with new eyes, picking out minor details he had not before. And yet, any two ships might look similar…

"Explain," he demanded, turning back to Groves.

"I recognized some of the prisoners," Groves said. "They were among the Marines attached to the _Dauntless_ at the time she disappeared. A Naval ship of the line would be a fine prize for pirates, would it not, sir?" Gillette stared around him for a few seconds, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. If it was true….

"Leftenant," he said hoarsely after a moment, "check the Captain's quarters. If this is the _Dauntless _some of James – of Captain Norrington's possessions will likely still be aboard." Groves nodded and turned away. Gillette raised his voice. "Mr. Mathers! Bring me the Captain of this vessel; I have a few questions I would like to ask him."

They met on the quarterdeck nearly an hour later. Gillette stood against the railing staring out to sea when Groves joined him, his hands tightly gripping the rail, tension rolling off him. Neither of them spoke for a moment, each waiting for the other to break the silence. Finally it was Gillette who took the initiative.

"You were right," he said, his voice strained.

"So were you," Groves replied, subdued. "The Captain talked?" Gillette gripped the railing even harder, his knuckles turning white as he did so.

"_They sold him_, Theo," he answered, his voice a mixture of anger, horror, and grief. "They took him to Santo Domingo and they sold him like some kind of _animal_…" He trailed off, his teeth clenched at the very thought of what had happened to their friend.

"We'll find him, Andrew," Groves said quietly. His eyes had gone hard; he did not look at Gillette but rather out to sea, a plan forming in his mind even as his friend spoke. "If I have to search every plantation in Santo Domingo, we'll find him." Gillette frowned.

"You?" he asked. "You know the Admiralty would never…."

"Then I'll resign my commission," Groves said almost savagely. He was silent for a moment, seemingly collecting himself. "I don't think it will come to that. The Admiralty is always looking for new intelligence. I know enough Spanish to pass as one of them; I could pretend to be a planter considering settling there. If there's even a chance…"

"We have to take it," Gillette agreed. There was a moment's uneasy silence before Groves turned away.

"I must take command of the prize vessel," he said. Gillette nodded.

"I'll see you in Port Royal," he said.

They did not see each other again for six months.

* * *

_And they're off! But how, you may ask, is the Pirates story to proceed without Norrington? Tune in at the same time next week and you may just find out._


	2. A Change in the Tide

_Ok, this took a little longer than I expected and was meant to be longer, but here is the next chapter as promised. (Wow, I can't believe I actually made a deadline for once)_

* * *

Gillette had never been comfortable at social functions such as this one. The fact that the ceremony and subsequent entertainment was in his honor did nothing to lessen his nervousness; he could not shake the feeling that the unwed young women of Port Royal were eyeing him hungrily, watching him with gazes sharper than a peregrine hawk's. He had retreated to the parapet overlooking the harbor in a momentary attempt at escape when he was made conscious of Theo's presence.

"Care for a drink, old man?" The voice came from behind him and the shock nearly knocked him over; he clutched at the stone battlement, his reflexes barely saving him.

"Theo!" he hissed, rounding on his friend. "Have a care, you imbecile!" Groves grinned at him lazily, holding out a glass of wine which Gillette took grudgingly.

"I'm gone for six months and this is what I return to," Theo said, his voice tinged with irony. "Besides, I wouldn't have let you fall." Gillette rolled his eyes as Groves stepped up onto the battlements to join him.

"A fine consolation," he muttered. "You would save me from the rocks to turn me back over to the vultures!" Theo laughed; his mirth, however, did not travel to his eyes and abruptly Gillette remembered that his friend had, in fact, been gone for six months.

"Where have you been, Theo?" he asked quietly after a moment's glance over his shoulder. Groves performed a similar check before answering.

"Santo Domingo," he replied. "I've been searching the plantations in between – well, you can guess." Andrew nodded.

"Anything?" he asked. Groves sighed heavily and leaned against the battlement.

"We're so close, Andrew," he said, his tone half fatigue and half frustration. "The colony is small enough – I should have been able to find him within a week. But of course it's all dinner parties and bloody horses and delicate questions about slaves who speak Latin!"

"Latin?"

"I've been telling them I have a son who needs a tutor and I'd rather not hire another servant," Groves explained moodily. "The problem is that I never get a good look at the field slaves. If they've put him in the fields then I may have passed him over already." He stared bleakly out to sea, clearly thinking that he might have left his friend in Spanish hands.

"Theo," Gillette started, "if you can't…"

"I'll find him," Groves snapped. "I'm not leaving him there." There was steel in his voice and Andrew did not argue any further. The word impossible was not in Theo's vocabulary when he got like this; Andrew only worried that his friend would do something precipitous in the course of his endeavors.

"Have you reported to the Admiral yet?" he asked instead. The younger man shook his head.

"I'll slip away later," he said with a shrug. He levered himself away from the stonework and faced his friend. "I should probably circulate a bit before people start talking," he said. "I'll meet you later for a celebratory pint." Gillette nodded and watched his friend weave his way back into the crowd for a moment before turning back toward the sea.

"Would you mind if I joined you?" This time the voice was female and, though somewhat strained, still familiar.

"Not at all, Miss Swann." The young woman seemed to mount the battlements with some difficulty; she steadied herself against the stones much as Gillette had done only moments earlier. "Are you quite alright, Miss Swann?" Gillette asked, a frown creasing his brow. She nodded, taking deep breaths.

"I only – needed some air," she managed. "I see Leftenant Groves has returned." Gillette nodded, turning away a little. "Have there been - any signs?" Gillette stiffened, shocked. Elizabeth was not supposed to know that they were looking for James – only the Governor, Groves, and certain Admirals knew of Groves' two-fold mission in Santo Domingo, or so Gillette had thought. Of course, he reflected, Elizabeth Swann had never been one to abide by rules; she had likely been listening outside her father's study when Gillette had told him of their plan. Best to accept her meddling then, he decided, since she already knew; after all, James had been a friend to them both.

"No, there haven't," he answered. When he turned back, however, there was no sign of Elizabeth. Frowning, he half-turned, expecting to see her somewhere in the crowd.

"Miss Swann?" There was an abrupt splashing sound below him, turning his attention back to the battlements and more particularly the rocks below. With a sudden twinge of horror, he realized where his companion had disappeared to. "Elizabeth!" he shouted, bringing an abrupt stop to the music.

Farther away, a pirate watched the young woman fall. Seeing perhaps his only chance out of the mess he'd gotten into, he sprang into action.

"Will you be saving her, then?" he asked the marines on either side of him.

"I can't swim," one answered.

"Pearl of the King's Navy you are," the pirate replied scornfully, already jerking off his coat, hat, and sword-belt. "Do not lose these." With that he dove into the water below, just in time to feel the current change.

* * *

Reviews are to me what gold is to a pirate. That's all I'm saying. 


	3. Attack

Sorry for the delay in posts; first off, RL interfered in the form of college and I have trouble doing filler chapters anyway. Good news, though; having now gotten through the tedious stuff I can get moving on the rest of the story!

* * *

Elizabeth Swann was tired of being fussed over.

It seemed to her that she had not had a moment's peace since she had fallen off the battlements that morning; first her father, then the doctor, and finally the maids, none of whom seemed to be able to say anything other than, "Miss Elizabeth, you could have drowned!"

"_Well _that's_certainly news_," she thought to herself irritably after about the fourth time. Indeed, the only person who had not fussed over her had been the pirate!

She remembered his eyes the most; they had been dark with a wicked glint in them now that she thought about it, promising mischief if not outright mayhem. Funny, but she had never thought that a pirate could look so dangerous and yet so alluring at the same time.

And he was dangerous. Gillette had made that abundantly clear at the docks; she could remember the furious look on his face as he had hissed a warning.

"_One good deed does not make him a good man!"_ the Captain had insisted. "_Pirates are criminals, or had you forgotten about James?" _The reminder had been sobering; she had indeed forgotten her friend for a few moments, more concerned with repaying the man for saving her life. In the end, though… she shuddered as she realized just how close she had come to being a second tragic example of Gillette's point.

"There now," Estrella said, pulling back the bedcovers for her and breaking her out of her reverie, "it's been a difficult day for you Miss, I'm sure." She nodded vaguely, dismissing the chamber maid with a wave of her hand. She fingered the medallion around her neck, wondering, not for the first time, where Will had gotten it; she was still thinking, and still frowning, when the lamp went out.

* * *

"I see from the Admiral's report that Leftenant Groves has returned," the Governor said lightly as they stepped past the sentry. Gillette murmured an affirmation. "Has he found anything?" Swann asked in a lower tone, staring straight ahead. Gillette shook his head.

"Nothing yet, sir," he replied equally quietly.

"Surely there should have been something," the Governor said incredulously. "The island is not…" he trailed off as they approached another sentry, and then cocked his head curiously. "What is that noise?" he asked. A strange whistling filled the air and Gillette realized only just in time what it was.

"Cannon fire!"

* * *

The first volleys woke her from her uneasy sleep, alerting her to the attack. Her father may not have recognized the sound but she most certainly did; the boom of a cannon was unmistakable to her ears and she had certainly heard her fair share of it at executions and the like. Port Royal had withstood other pirate attacks, and so she was not worried… until she saw the torches. With a thrill of fear, she realized that they were headed toward the house, and there were so few that there was only one thing they could be. The bell rang, and apparently the butler had not heard the commotion, for he moved toward the door.

"No! Don't!"

The warning fell on deaf ears, for the next moment the door was open, the butler was dead, and she found herself running.

The mad rush that followed was nightmarish. Elizabeth did not go to pieces as some women might have, but neither was she experienced at either combat or evasion, and so she found herself hiding in a pantry, trying frantically to cease her labored breathing and quell the tremors running through her from fear. Over the pounding of her heart she could hear the pirates break the doors in at last; their footsteps echoed across the floor even as crashes and screams sounded from the floor above.

"We will find you poppet." The pirate's voice was somehow chilling, the leer in it unmistakable even through the closed door. "You've got something of ours and it calls to us… the gold calls to us." Wait. The gold? She touched the gold piece she had taken off of Will, examining it more closely in the little time she had. Could it really be so simple?

" 'Allo, poppet." The door opened, but she was ready; they had slipped in mentioning the gold, and she knew what they wanted now.

"Parlay!"

* * *

The guard had arrived exactly one hour too late. Of course, in terms of lateness, one hour did not make much difference; it could take an hour for a ship to even move out of the harbor, let alone make significant progress, but Gillette still found himself cursing when they arrived at the Governor's mansion to find at least three servants dead, the mansion itself looted, and rubble littering the ground from the strike of a cannon-ball.

"Spread out; search the house and make sure none of the pirates have lingered!" Gillette ordered. He turned to the Governor, who had accompanied him to the mansion. "Governor, I apologize; this is utterly inexcusable and…"

"I – imagine it could have been worse," Swann managed, taking a look at the wreckage of his front hall. The old gentleman looked vaguely shocked; he looked around him with a kind of detached curiosity.

"House secure, sir; the attack seems to be over." Gillette nodded absently; something was tickling at the back of his mind, a half-forgotten detail…

"Where is Elizabeth?" The Governor asked suddenly, seeming to snap out of his daze. "She had retired for the night; she should be here. Elizabeth?" Gillette felt a cold shiver run down his back at the question. He turned to the Marine flanking them, who offered a bewildered shake of the head.

"There was no sign of Miss Swann anywhere in the house, Your Excellency," he reported.

"They – they come to kidnap her!" The sob came from one of the maids, who had previously been kneeling over the dead body of the butler. "They took Miss Swann!"


End file.
